Stories need a roof over their heads too
The road goes ever on, that’s how the song goes. Now, I don’t know about you, but I often wonder at its destination. I’m frequently (daily?) asking myself whether I’m on the right track at all. But that’s probably just me, indulging in too much introspection.
I have been meaning to write this for a while now. But, like when you’re about to tell your girlfriend it ain’t working anymore and it’s time to go your separate ways, it hasn’t been as effortless to put pen to paper this time around. Turns out, some ends are just as difficult as starting something new. I need to get this out of the way though and just say it: Paris, I love you.
My dad was an architect. I asked him once, what he liked most about his passion (because for him it never was just a job, but a calling really). Without too much hesitation, he said he liked the straight lines.